I comment to my mother (I ask for it, I realise this now):
"Ha. A friend of mine told me about a kid commenting to him wondering who that old guy was during the halftime"
*repeats, already getting exasperated*
"What did the kid say?"
"He wanted to know who that old guy was, and why they couldn't get real music for the halftime show"
"What old guy?"
"Paul. McCartney." Note, we had discussed him being the halftime show earlier...
"Oh. I didn't know what you were talking about."
I bite my tongue, and sit down.
"So, how old was this kid?" "I don't know."
"Did you tell him who Paul McCartney was?"
"I said it was someone a friend of mine was talking to!" Several times, even!
Usually at this point I get told that I don't need to yell. I beg to differ. I need to yell, or she needs to pay attention. And people say MY generation has a horrible attention span.
Ok, so maybe not NEED to yell, but I have very little patience for repetition. Not to mention my displeasure at these people in general right now.